


Malaise

by midnight12181



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-29
Updated: 2011-08-29
Packaged: 2017-10-23 04:49:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/246425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnight12181/pseuds/midnight12181
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cataclysm has brought a growing malaise within Sprink. A malaise that needs to be dealt with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Malaise

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Malaise  
> Fandom: World of Warcraft  
> Author: Sprink  
> Rating: PG  
> Disclaimer: Standard disclaimers apply. The World of Warcraft is owned and operated by Activision Blizzard.  
> Warnings: None

Sprink sipped at her South Island Iced Tea as she stood near the mailbox in Orgrimmar. She watched the hustle and bustle as people ran from the auction house to the mailbox and some of them back again. It was the sixteenth day in a row she had done this, and the malaise that held her would still not lift. The local grunts themselves, at the request of the goblin auctioneers, had limited her to only three drinks before she was required to find another place in the city to drown her supposed sorrows. You set fire to the mailbox once in a drunken rage...

She glanced at the magical device given to her when she joined her current guild and read through the conversation that had been going on between some of her guildmates. In all honesty, she cared not who they were and cared less what they were talking about. Flicking her fingers over the device's interface, she read down the list of the available guildmembers to speak with and frowned as she found only a handful that she recognized, and only a handful of those did she care to speak with. With a sigh, she tucked the device back into her pack and took another sip of her beverage.

Bored by her surroundings, Sprink pulled a rune of teleportation from her bags and inscribed 'Undercity' on it's face, mumbling the words of the accompanying spell that would send her to the Forsaken's home. She closed her eyes as the magic wrapped around her, holding her breath the moment she felt time and space shift.

She had no more than reached the waterway separating the inner portion of the city from the outer than she found herself nose to chest with a rather large orc.

“Didn't expect to see you here,” Derull said.

“I could say the same,” Sprink replied.

Derull just stared at her for a moment before he spoke again. “You seem uncharacteristically down.”

Sprink just raised an eyebrow, but let the orc's words go unchallenged.

“Uh, I mean, zug--” Derull stopped himself mid-sentence. Normally, Sprink would have made a comment regarding whether he could even spell such a multi-syllabic word. There really was something going on.

“Sorry,” Sprink offered, glancing past the large orc to look at... nothing.

Derull just frowned. He shuffled his feet a little before he looked at the normally insane fire mage. “I'm going to go to Tol Barad when I'm done cooking here. Do you, uh, want to go?”

Sprink sighed. “No. But thanks anyway.”

“You can set people on fire.”

“I'll pass. Thanks.”

Derull's frown moved further down his face. There really WAS something wrong with the blood elf. However, if there was one thing he wasn't comfortable with, it was trying to cheer up someone who seemed perfectly content being unhappy. Especially when that someone could have the temper of an orc and a penchant for fire.

Sprink looked over Derull's face, a tiny quirk to her lips. Just because she had a cloud over her head was no reason to make her friend suffer discomfort.

“I'll see you around, Derull,” Sprink offered with that same half-smile. “Have fun storming the castle.”

She moved her way back towards the Mage Quarter, leaving the orc to do what he pleased. A week ago Derull had suggested she go help out with the siege of the Firelands, and she had gone. Twice. The first time, she had enjoyed helping out with the rebuilding of Hyjal... until the incident with Hamuul Runetotem. After that, she had traveled through the portal to the Firelands, finding something that just didn't sit right with her there.

To say Sprink was not a fan of Malfurion Stormrage was an understatement. She respected him because of his power, but she despised him for many more important reasons. The most current of those reasons was his attempts to bring greenery into the Plane of Fire. Who the hell did that Kal'dorei-bear-pig think he was? Was he not satisfied with the Emerald Dream that he had to take the Firelands as well? True, Ragnaros had returned and was more of an issue than he was previously, but that was no reason to bring plant life into the freaking Plane of Fire!

She had completed the tasks asked of her, navigating around all the other volunteers as best she could. Upon her return to Orgrimmar was, well, the mailbox incident that had the grunts limiting her alcohol intake. After a few days to cool down, she returned again, but after completing the tasks she was asked, she declined additional work. They had tried to convince her to stay, offering her the title of 'Flamebreaker' if she became a key factor in the war effort.

Flamebreaker? Flamebreaker? Why the hell would any self-respecting fire mage want to be known as a flameBREAKER?

'But we need to fight the minions of Deathwing!' they had said. 'He could tear Azaroth apart at the seams! Do you remember what he did to Outland?' Deathwing? Deathwing was a fallen aspect. She was just a master of fire magic. A lot of good she would do against a creature of flame and earth.

Sprink huffed at the Forsaken portal trainer, pulling another rune of teleportation from her bags. Undercity was just as boring as Orgrimmar, it seemed.

As she arrived in Silvermoon, she breathed deeply of the lingering arcane in her home town. Regardless of how much Orgrimmar was a bustling hub of commerce, she still preferred the quiet elegance of the capitol of the Sin'dorei. Walking along the city streets, she paused to check a mailbox.

A letter from the Brew of the Month Club, a request for a shield enchantment from Tirralyis, a set of boots that Kinsyth didn't want but figured she could disenchant into raw materials, and a letter from the Kirin Tor. She opened the letter from the mages' order, tossing it aside after reading it. She was ready to give up on gaining admittance into their ranks. This was the 1738th rejection letter, and Sprink just couldn't understand it. She had worked her way into their good graces, championing their causes until she found herself an exalted champion of the order, but they still would not offer her anything other than the customary apartment given to visiting mages within the city. In fact, she couldn't remember the last time she'd been in Dalaran. She stopped going to the city after rejection 1422.

Perhaps... perhaps it was time for something different. Something away from the norm. Perhaps she needed to see the world (again), meet new people, see everything that had changed since the arrival of the fallen Earth Warden. Perhaps it was time for a metaphorical rebirth. While she was no Sunstrider, her people took the phoenix as their race's symbol for a reason. Without rebirth, redefinition, one stagnated. And if that didn't describe her feelings exactly, she didn't know what did.

Sprink walked purposefully towards the Walk of Elders, stepping inside a building to speak with Tandrine, the guild master of Silvermoon.

“Bal'a dash, malanore.”

“Sinu a'manore, Tandrine,” Sprink replied with a small nod.

“What can I do for you?”

Sprink fished through her backpack, pulling out her guild communication device. “Could you make sure that the guild this belongs to gets this?”

Tandrine looked at her and nodded. “Guild not a good fit?”

“I don't think anyone would miss me there.”

“That's too bad,” Tandrine offered with a small, consoling smile. “Is there another guild you would like to apply to?”

“No, but thanks,” Sprink said softly.

After going through a few more things, Sprink was finally ready to start her personal rebirth. A smile cracked her lips and a fire shown in her eyes for the first time in sixteen days. She looked up at the sky above her as she stepped out into the streets of Silvermoon.

“I'll go it alone.”


End file.
